


Red Roses, Too

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Prompt Fic, actually a snippet from a larger fic i'm working on, but vader was one hundred percent serious, in which padme thinks the masked stranger is joking when he says "I WILL CRUSH YOUR ENEMIES"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 01:34:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7956991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darth Vader looks for someone and finds two people, one of which was dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Roses, Too

**Author's Note:**

> "Fialleril said: Okay prompts: Write me a thing about giant dweeb Vaderkin attempting to woo Padme."
> 
> Less attempting, more deciding that he's going to. I wanted to leave the really fun stuff for the larger fic. (Which, of course, I'm still working on. I BEG FOR FORGIVENESS)
> 
> For anyone out of the loop: this is a small part of the Anakin-raised-as-a-Sith AU that my followers decided I should totally write. (I'm starting to notice a trend; I make a terrible Star Wars post, and people just hop on it.) To clarify, there's an attempt on Padme's life, Vader is assigned - by Palpatine - as her guard, and by the time it's over Vader realizes he's in love.

Seetoo had layered on the various silks and cloths thick, making movement difficult.

 

The disguise was elaborate. Of course, it was made entirely of cheap, synthetic materials – Master would be less likely to notice the deduction from his bank account – but designed so that no one would notice unless they were staring at it from a bare few inches away. From a distance, it looked like he _belonged_ in a Senate ball; he looked expensive in the thick, velvety, blue floor-length robes embroidered carefully with seafoam designs, a heavy emerald cloak, decorated in thick, gem-encrusted jewelry and a complicated gold mask.

 

The mask, in fact, was the only part of the outfit that was worth anything. It was hand-carved, with huge, spiraling horns on which the faux-silk veil that covered his neck armor hung. It had a long, graceful snout, fifty-five teeth whittled to perfect accuracy, and lovingly encrypted symbols lining each and every scale.

 

Only one beautiful thing came from his childhood: the image of a snarling krayt dragon, five years in the making. It was his battle helm for a very different kind of battle.

 

Vader stalked around the outside of the gathering, eyes searching for one senator in particular – a nameless emotion, but not unfamiliar, pooled in his gut. He remembered it from when Maul would come and visit; a strange mixture of excitement and fear.

 

For a second, he wished he hadn’t muted his breathing – the mute mechanism ended up making his breaths short, breezy, and he was already light-headed enough without the extra incentive. Cursed thing.

 

He stopped by one of the massive columns – the Bauergrav, a ball house designed and inspired by Coruscanti natives, was famous for its elegant and ancient architecture. Vader, personally, thought it was a ridiculous waste of alabaster. It was only used for Senate functions, and the Senate had a hard enough time doing its job without the distraction.

 

Even if said distractions served his purposes now.

 

He spotted Padme – _Padme_ – weaving through the crowd with Senator Organa, a tall, broad-shouldered man in the cool tones of the Royal House of Alderaan.

 

Vader’s heart thudded hard against its cage. Padme was laughing, her eyes crinkled, eyes sparking; her whole body rocked with the motion. Pure, unadulterated happiness.

 

Behind his masks, he smiled.

 

Padme twirled with Organa, giggling, and then pulled another woman – Senator Mothma – to her side. The three of them gathered together, and then speared through the crowd towards the bar.

 

He lost sight of her, after that. He slumped against the column, feeling flushed and dizzy. He found himself wanting things he shouldn’t; to hold a conversation with her, or to be – _close_ to her.

 

He’d had friends before. He’d had rather a lot of them, on Tatooine, a band of scruffy children kicking up dust. Since then, well, he’d had Maul, and he _counted._

 

(There’d been a time when he considered Maul his _brother – brother what have you_ done – )

 

A part of him whispered, _you could have that again. You could try._

 

He couldn’t deny it. He _wanted_ to try.

When he had acted as her guard, she had spat ice at even him; her bravery was endless. Her compassion was even more infinite, her heart, her _soul_ , were all so full of power and passion – the beautiful breed of it. The angelic type.

 

He remembered the night he’d found her missing; he’d raised the alarm, and scoured the city, stormtroopers flooding the streets. They’d spent hours crawling the political province, searching for any sign of Padme they could find.

 

He’d found her kneeling with a little girl wrapped in her arms. Padme was trying to help her find her mother – hours spent, in the cold and dark, all for a homeless scrap of a kid.

 

She had even showed him kindness once. She, a queen at the time, had gotten down on her knees and helped a little rat like him. She’d even touched him – and that was a dangerous, dangerous thing to do.

 

_You will poison her,_ he reminded himself. _You will destroy her – you have to stay away._

But he didn’t _want to._

Vader growled behind his mask, unleashing an ungodly sound from the vocoder. Several people near him scurried away.

 

He reasoned with himself; he’d never even get close enough. The truth was, he was born a slave, full of the scum of scoundrels and gamblers; he came from less than nothing. She was a former Queen, now a representative of an entire planet.

 

He would never be able to get through the first few exchanges without tripping up, and crossing some abominable line. He belonged on a battlefield, lightsaber blazing, where the world was destroy or be destroyed; that was his _place._

 

He didn’t belong with other people. Master was the only one who could handle him.

 

With that thought, Vader turned to leave. It hadn’t been a wasted night, as he’d reached a (hollow, hollow, always so _hollow_ ) conclusion, and he’d seen the last of Padme that he’d ever see. It was worth it. They called it closure.

 

_Worth it_ , he thought, and as he whipped around the corner, he ran into someone.

 

He turned to walk past them, even deliver a vicious snarl as he strode away – he was a Dark Lord of the Sith – when he realized who it was. He cursed by every star and swear he knew of; the Force trembled with the weight of his panic.

 

“Pad – _Senator Amidala_ ,” Vader said, trying to make his voice properly threatening _._ “My… my apologies.”

 

Padme scrambled, awkwardly re-adjusting her hair and sleek white dress from the floor. Vader stared at her for a few moments, wondering why she didn’t just stand up, before he jolted into action and offered his hand.

 

She took it with a bashful smile, and he hauled her upwards. He’d miscalculated how much she weighed, and she crashed straight into his chest.

 

_It is time for a tactical retreat,_ Vader thought.

 

“Oh,” Padme said, backing away. “I’m so sorry – I must watch where I’m going.”

 

Her eyes were wide, brows crawling up to her hairline, mouth slack. Fear looked wrong on her.

 

“It – is my fault,” Vader said. After a beat of silence, in which Padme seemed to want to run away and Vader himself wished for the swamps of Dagobah to eat him alive, he tapped the mask and said, “It is – hard. To see.”

 

She gave a shaky, fake laugh. “I bet.”

 

They fell into silence. Vader resisted the urge to tap his thighs with his fingers, desperately raking his mind for something to say, while Padme eyed him curiously.

 

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured. “I mean – the mask. It’s gorgeous. Where did you get it?”

 

Vader swelled with pride – _gorgeous_. Gorgeous. What a word. _“I_ made it.”

 

Her mouth dropped open. “You made it? How? You must be quite the artisan.”

 

“I… it is made of melted down droid armor,” Vader said. “And scraps. Welded together. Buff and smooth the metal, shape it, carve.”

 

“How long did it take?” she asked, politely. Her hands folded delicately behind her back.

 

“Six years,” he said.

 

“Incredible,” she said – her astonishment seemed genuine, but he could never tell. “And – what is it?”

 

Vader was quiet for a few moments. In a rush of bravery, and another nameless need, he said, “It – it is a krayt dragon. From my home planet.”

 

“Home planet? Where are you from?”

 

“… Tatooine.”

 

“The Outer Rim?” Padme asked. “How did a Rimworlder find their way into a Senate Ball?”

 

When Vader didn’t reply, Padme said, “Forgive my manners – I’m prying. I was just curious.”

 

She looked dejected. Vader swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. “I was – looking for someone.”

 

“Did you find them?”

 

He looked at her, taking her in, and said, “Yes.”

 

“Oh. Well, I’m glad you did,” she said. She offered a wink. “These things can get exhausting, so I’m glad _someone_ has a reason to be here.”

 

Vader’s heart stuttered. “I – I – _I_ am sorry you do not enjoy it.”

 

“Some of the – drama – gets exhausting after a while,” she said.

 

“I would not know,” he replied. “I have stayed very far away.”

 

She laughed, and while the sound of it made Vader feel like the suns had shone on him, he didn’t understand what he said that was so funny. It was merely the truth.

 

“That’s the best idea,” she said. “Usually, though, they’ll find a way to bother everyone.”

 

Thinking of the senators he had scared away, he said, “I believe they find me intimidating. Speaking scared them away.”

 

If he’d thought he’d seen her laugh, he was wrong. This was her laugh – an imperfect snort, an endearing belly giggle, and a high-pitched cackle all in one. “I’ve been bombarded all night – please, _please_ tell me your secret.”

 

“Height helps,” Vader said.

 

She laughed, yet again. Vader had a scathing sense of humor, but he wasn’t trying to be funny – was she laughing just to laugh? Was that possible?

 

“I’m – lacking, in that department,” she said.

 

“You are not lacking in any department,” he replied, quickly. The second the words were in the air, he’d have liked to crush his skull between two TIEs.

 

“Oh,” she said, flushing. “Thank you?”

 

“I recommend telling them to leave,” he said, changing the subject.

 

Padme chuckled. “Not likely to work.”

 

“ _I_ can handle them,” he said, his voice deepening near a growl. _No one_ should be bothering her.

 

Padme didn’t even bat an eye. “I think I just need to get away for a bit – get my thoughts in order. I’ve made a few… enemies, in the Senate. They’re quite vocal.”

 

“I will crush them,” he offered, immediately. This was his chance to prove his loyalty to her, to earn something positive from her – even her indifference would be a marked improvement.

 

Of all things, Padme giggled. “That’s sweet of you to offer, but I think I can handle them myself.”

 

Vader, behind his layers, blinked. It was not _sweet_ to crush your enemies. Did she not understand what he was saying?

 

“You’re a very sarcastic man behind that mask,” she said. “What’s your name?”

 

_What is your name, my apprentice?_

_My sweet baby boy, what – what did he call you?_

“Anakin,” he said. “My name… is Anakin.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Since I haven't technically written everything around this scene, it'll change once the fic is finished and posted. This is like, take one. The rough draft. I tried to keep it short so I don't spoil the whole thing.
> 
> (Also - there's a reason the mask is a dragon, there's a reason Anakin carved a krayt dragon specifically. There's a pretty big reason. But NO SPOILERS)


End file.
